


Wrench in the Works

by thirty2flavors



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: 5 Times, Awkward Sexual Situations, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirty2flavors/pseuds/thirty2flavors
Summary: Five times Rhys and Sasha's night didn't go as planned.





	Wrench in the Works

**Author's Note:**

> In conversation on Discord, it came up that I had written Rhys and Sasha attempting to have sex and something going terribly awry much more often than I had written them just, like, getting to have sex. ...So then I did it intentionally, five-times style. Sorry, guys.
> 
> This is also, somehow, easily the most sexual thing I've ever written, and it's a) mostly about _bad_ sex and b) still soft-focus as hell. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

**one**

The lead was a bust.

Most leads were, Fiona was learning quickly. Most jobs were a complete waste of time, stupid fetch-and-carries or basic recon well below her paygrade, thank you very much. Sure, she wasn’t the most renowned Vault Hunter on Pandora, but she never would be if she let herself take those kinds of jobs. Right?

On the bright side, a bad lead meant she got to go home early to a bed that was reliably spiderant-free.

Sasha was still up by the time Fiona returned, and Fiona paused in the doorway, smiling. 

Sasha’s head lolled over the back of the sofa, her eyes shut in bliss. After several rocky months, Sasha was finally doing well. Better than well. Sasha was happy—something Fiona had worried on more than one occasion was an impossible task. It was gratification beyond any vault, watching her little sister finally settle in and find a home.

A floorboard creaked as Fiona walked closer. Sasha’s eyes snapped open, and all of a sudden several things happened at once.

There was a flurry of movement. Sasha’s eyes widened. She crossed her legs and lunged across the sofa to grab a ratty old blanket and drape it over herself. 

“Ow!” Rhys crawled out from between Sasha’s knees, rubbing the side of his head. “Sash, you kicked me in the—” He caught sight of Fiona and froze. “Oh, shit.” He flashed the most frightened smile she’d ever seen. “H-hey, Fiona.” 

Eyes the size of Elpis, Fiona stayed where she was, rooted to the spot by sheer horror as her very clever brain clicked the puzzle pieces into place. 

“Oh my god.” Fiona’s expertise with words left her high and dry in this time of need. “Oh my _god_.”

Rhys surreptitiously wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“ _Oh my god_ ,” repeated Fiona, her voice a mere squeak.

“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Sasha, higher-pitched than usual. 

“What the hell am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?!” Then, as Rhys opened his mouth, she shouted, “Rhetorical question! Do not answer that!” 

“You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow!” yelped Sasha. 

“It doesn’t matter when I’m home! You shouldn’t be—be— _that_ —ever!” Recovering from her shock, Fiona gestured frantically, relying on her hands to convey the disgust her words could not.

“Come on, Fi, I’m not twelve,” Sasha scolded, which was Fiona thought was rich, coming from the girl clutching her blanket like a shield. 

“You owe me a new sofa. Now I’ve got to—to burn this one,” Fiona continued. Her finger of disgust moved to point at Rhys. “I’ll use it as kindling when I burn you at the stake.”

“I can’t replace the sofa if you’ve burnt me alive,” Rhys pointed out. 

Fiona glared so fiercely Rhys scrambled backwards a foot.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sasha snapped, properly glaring now, her arms folded over the blanket. “You were perfectly happy for me to do whatever was needed for a job, but—”

“Saying I was ‘perfectly happy’ is revisionist history and you know it.” Fiona shook her head resolutely. “It’s bad enough you two are—are— _god_ , I don’t need to _see it_.” She gagged. “On my _sofa_. I use that!”

“Well, so do we,” muttered Rhys. 

With a wordless yowl of rage, Fiona hurled an empty beer can at him; it clinked as it bounced off his metal arm.

* * *

**two**

“I can’t do this while he’s watching us.”

“He’s not watching us.”

“Yes he is!” Rhys insisted. “He’s—look, he just _licked his lips_.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “He’s a dog, Rhys. They do that.” 

As if to prove her point, Ajax—the 120-pound lump of fur sitting attentively at the side of their bed—licked his lips again, panting happily in their direction. 

Rhys shuddered.

“Rhys.” Impatient, Sasha took his face in her hands, directing his gaze away from Ajax and towards her as she loomed above him. “How about you worry less about what the dog’s doing with his tongue, and more about what I’m going to do with mine?”

Rhys raised a challenging eyebrow. “Are you saying I should be worried?”

His smirk was cut short by a kiss, deep and hungry and _oh_ , she was right, that was definitely the tongue he wanted to be paying attention to. Eyes slipping shut, he moaned, and Sasha pulled back, trailing along his neck with her mouth, nipping and licking down to the blue on his chest and lower still. 

Rhys squirmed happily beneath her, skin alight under her touch. He was buzzing with anticipation by the time she finished nibbling the patch beneath his bellybutton and ran the tip of her tongue along his—cheek?

He opened one eye. Ajax licked his face again.

“ _Auuugh!_ ” cried Rhys. 

Sasha lifted her head. Ajax woofed, tail thumping against the carpet before he pressed his cold nose into Rhys’ ear.

Rhys made a noise like a dying whale.

“Okay, okay—Ajax, maybe you should wait outside, buddy.” Sasha clambered off of Rhys, wrapping both arms around Ajax’s neck and dragging him out of the room. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

While Sasha wrestled with the dog, Rhys sat up, grabbing a tissue and scrubbing frantically at his face. 

“That was _revolting_ ,” he told her as she shut the door.

Sasha flashed a conciliatory smile. “Aw, come on. You like when he’s affectionate.”

Rhys scowled. “Not while I’m—while you’re—doing _that_ , I— _ugh_.” He grabbed a second tissue.

“Okay, babe.” Sasha crossed her arms and cocked her hip. “You wanna go shower off the dog cooties or you wanna continue?”

Rhys pouted but tossed the tissue aside, and she grinned, swaying her hips as she walked back to the bed. 

“That’s what I thought,” she said, climbing back overtop of him. Rhys put a hand on her waist, leaning in for a (nice, human) kiss.

Ajax howled outside the bedroom door. 

Rhys sank back against his pillow, hid his face in both hands and whined.

* * *

**three**

Sasha was torturing him.

This was the conclusion Rhys drew after she walked past him for the third time wearing nothing but an open bathrobe, skin still glistening from the shower she’d just taken, all while he sat on a conference call with various Atlas stakeholders.

It was intentional. He knew it was. When he’d mentioned needing to take a call late at night at home, Sasha’d made a face, and Rhys had braced himself for some form of petty retribution. 

He had not prepared for _this_.

He gave his head a shake and tried to refocus, listening to… god, who was even on this call? Even the snarky text messages he privately exchanged with Yvette couldn’t make the call more interesting. It felt like it had started five lifetimes ago. He could barely remember the agenda.

Another message came in from Yvette. _This guy’s a jackass. I’m going to put him in his place._

Rhys, who had long ago lost track of who was even speaking, wrote back _Go for it_. 

In his periphery vision, Sasha put her hands above her head and stretched to the tips of her toes. 

Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose. New Atlas policy: no damn teleconferences in the middle of the night, timezones be damned.

Sasha sat down directly in view of Rhys’ desk, one leg draped over the arm of her chair as she inspected her nail polish; Rhys tried very, very hard to pay attention to his palm display instead.

Somewhere on the line, Yvette was using words like “forecasted overhead”. 

Rhys grit his teeth. He counted to ten twice, then shut off his palm display and gave in.

“Psst. Sash.” He beckoned her forward. “C’mere.” 

Sasha looked up, deceptively innocent as she walked over, the belt of her robe tied very loosely. “Thought you were on a call.”

Rhys grinned. “They’ve got this great thing now, called ‘mute’...” 

He held out his arms, and Sasha moved closer, letting him reach for the tie of her robe.

“Thought it was an _important_ call,” said Sasha mildly, playing with the top button of his shirt.

“Oh, it is,” he agreed. His eye pinged with a new message from Yvette, but he ignored it, tugging the knot of Sasha’s belt loose. “But then I remembered I’m _even more_ important, and all I need to do is be a silent, threatening presence on the line who occasionally agrees with Yvette.” 

Sasha smirked. “That so?” She threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Uh huh.” He pushed the open robe behind her hips. “Executive perk.” He leaned forward, kissing the bare skin of Sasha’s stomach and pulling her into his lap. “I can kind of do what I want.”

Sasha clucked her tongue. “Not sure this job is good for you,” she said, voice low. Her hands moved from the button of his shirt to the zipper of his pants. “Think it’s giving you delusions of grandeur.” 

Another new message from Yvette rolled in, but Rhys ignored that one, too. He couldn’t even hear the callers on the line anymore; his focus had narrowed to Sasha, the taste of her damp skin, the scent of his overpriced soap that she mocked but loved to use. He mouthed at one of her breasts.

“Well…” His breathing hitched as she slid her hand down the front of his pants. “Lucky I’ve got you to keep me humble.”

Sasha hummed in his ear. “You’re damn right you are.” She gave him a squeeze and he groaned, long and low, head tipping back. 

Yvette sent another message. And another, and another, and another. 

Deeply impatient with office gossip impeding his enjoyment of the things Sasha was doing with her hand, Rhys called up one of Yvette’s messages to dismiss them all.

All the blood pumping frantically through his body suddenly ran cold.

_WRONG MUTE BUTTON, YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBASS._

* * *

**four**

“Mmm.” Sasha let her eyes slip shut as she relaxed, nestling back into her pillow. “That’s nice.” She draped her arms behind her head. “Maybe a little slower.” She wriggled under Rhys’ touch, trying to find the right angle. “Slower, babe.” She frowned a little, squirming again. “Rhys, I said—” She wrinkled her nose. “Ow—!”

Sasha’s eyes flew open and her knees snapped shut at the same time as Rhys pulled his metal hand away.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said quickly, hand aloft and safely away from her as it started to vibrate faster and faster. 

Sasha’s eyebrows shot up. “Holy shit, Rhys. I don’t want to fuck a jackhammer.” 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry!” Rhys said again, staring at his own hand in alarm. “It’s not—” He gave it a shake, which did nothing but increase the frequency. “—supposed to do that...”

Pushing herself onto her elbows, Sasha watched as the prosthetic hand moved so quickly it was hard to look at. She crossed her legs. “I sure hope not.” 

“The new software, it’s not behaving properly…” His yellow eye lit up and the brown one glazed over, a telltale sign he was doing something technical in his head that Sasha wouldn’t understand. 

She pouted. “You trying to eviscerate me? Was this an assassination attempt?”

“Of course not,” he said distantly, as though it’d been a legitimate question. Sasha rolled her eyes. He frowned at some unseen text. “Something in the code…? I wonder…”

He was talking to himself. Sasha crossed her arms over her chest, still eyeing his metal one wearily as it vibrated into oblivion—and then it stopped abruptly, falling totally limp at his side. 

“What the hell?” asked Sasha. 

“Oh.” Rhys sounded a little stunned but not totally surprised. “It, uh, wasn’t responding to command so it must've tripped one of the failsafes,” he explained. Sasha sensed a hint of satisfaction in his frown. “Well. Guess those work.”

“Okay, for the record? You’re never touching me with that again.” Curious, she raised his limp wrist and then dropped it, letting it flop back onto the bed cover. “Creepy.” 

Rhys sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed; the arm stayed where the way it had fallen. “Gotta reboot it.”

Sasha made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. “Uh, excuse me? Think you’ve got a job to finish first, no?”

Rhys stared at her. “Seriously?” He gestured at his lifeless right arm with his left hand. 

“Pretty sure you’ve still got more than enough tools at your disposal, buddy-boy.” She poked his blue bicep and smirked. “Or have you forgotten how to go analog?”

“That is not what analog means,” Rhys objected.

But his left hand travelled up her thigh anyway, and Sasha fell back against her pillow, humming expectantly as his fingers found a rhythm. 

“That’s better,” she murmured. 

It was a pleasantly familiar sensation, less intense but significantly less deadly, and she rocked against his hand, heels digging into the mattress. She opened her eyes to send him a smile only to find him staring at the wall, golden eye illuminated.

“Oh my god,” she said, smile turning to a scowl, “are you _coding_? _Now_?!”

* * *

**five**

Once her heart rate had returned to normal, Sasha extricated herself from both Rhys and the bed sheets. “Gonna shower.”

Rhys turned his head to watch her but made no move to follow. “Any excuse to steal my soap.”

Sasha pulled her elbow above her head and stretched. “Hey, if you’re going to keep wasting money on it, I might as well get something out of it.”

“Not a waste. Look at us.” He gestured down at himself and then over at her, his lips pulled into a lazy and self-satisfied smile. “We’re beautiful.” 

His hair was in a rare state of disarray, a leftover blush of pink spread down to the top of his chest, and even though he was half-hidden by the pillow she could see the dopey, relaxed look in his eyes. 

_Beautiful_ was maybe a stretch. Her heart squeezed in her chest anyway. 

Still, Sasha wrinkled her nose in contemplation. “Hmm.” She placed one finger on her chin in thought. “Not sure that’s the the word I’d use.”

He shrugged. “Sexy, dashing, gorgeous...” He waved a hand. “Take your pick.” 

“Dorky, I think, is what I’d go with.” She tousled his hair while he pouted.

“Whatever.” Rhys sniffed proudly. “I know how you really feel. I was here twenty minutes ago.” 

Sasha hummed in agreement. “That was fun.” 

“What do you think?” Rhys grabbed her by the wrist as she started to walk away, wagging his eyebrows. “Round two, after your shower?”

“There’s never a round two. You’re always asleep.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is.” She pulled her wrist free to set her hands on her hips. “Five minutes and you’re counting skags. Why do you think I insist on going first?”

“That’s slander,” Rhys insisted. “And I have a legal team now, so be careful. I’ll sue you!”

Sasha shook her head as she rounded the doorway to the bathroom. “You have one lawyer, and I’m pretty sure his degree is fake.”

“No one’s been able to prove that!” he called after her. “Correspondence is a legitimate way to get a degree!”

——

Twenty minutes later, when Sasha returned from her shower, Ajax was curled by the side of the bed and Rhys was on his stomach, snoring softly. 

She scratched Ajax behind the ear, fished a tank top and a pair of shorts out of her dresser and got dressed before crawling into the bed next to Rhys. 

He didn’t stir, even as the mattress dipped under her weight. His metal arm dangled over the edge of the bed, as though he’d fallen asleep in the midst of petting the dog.

“Slander, huh?” she whispered. She brushed some of his loose curls aside to kiss his forehead. “Sleep well, dummy.” 

Rhys mumbled in his sleep and burrowed deeper into his pillow. As she settled beside him, Sasha shook her head, but she couldn’t smother her smile.

**Author's Note:**

> say hi on Tumblr: [@oodlyenough](http://oodlyenough.tumblr.com/)


End file.
